


callibrations

by brandflakeeee



Series: the world is quiet here [6]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Gen, mentions of the other children and beatrice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: Relationship adjustments.





	1. a quiet place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starcrier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starcrier/gifts).



> Starcrier requested anything with Lemony being a dad to Violet. Hope this suits!

Violet Baudelaire had become a creature of habit.

Without threats of being kidnapped, used, or abused she seemed uncertain of what to do with herself. She had spent so long protecting her siblings that at first she had simply read books and tried not to jump or flinch at every little noise or knock on the door. She refused to stray far from her siblings, though eventually her strong need to _protect_ began to fall away and for the first time Lemony caught a glimpse of the young girl Violet had once been, before everything had gone downhill.

It’s an adjustment, the pair of them. His _daughter_. He could stare at her for hours and still not believe it despite the fact that now he knew, he could spot every little family-based trait she had inherited from him, both in brains and beauty. Oh, she was still very much her mother’s daughter, but there were times Lemony saw himself or his own parents in Violet’s eyes or mannerisms.

He loved her.

It was a realization he had come to quite quickly during the first few days of trying to navigate their relationship with one another. He had made an effort to spend time with all three of the Baudelaire children, unwilling to let Klaus or Sunny be forgotten just because Violet was his by blood. Still, he spent a great deal of time with Violet alone; they often sat together in the newly built library with Violet reading and Lemony typing away in a companionable silence. It wasn’t perfect, but it would take time to adjust. He still stood firm on the fact he in no way wanted to replace Bertrand Baudelaire – he didn’t think he could, at any rate. Bertrand was far braver, far more deserving of a woman like Beatrice.

“I could use your help.”

When Violet had spoken and Lemony had looked up from across the library and met her gaze, he tried in vain to sort out if it was an attempt to spend time with him, or if she did in fact need his help. Though he wasn’t even certain what sort of help he could offer, other than perhaps proofreading essays and the occasional imaginative idea.

“I’m trying to finish this and I can’t get it to do what I need.” She gestured to the device in her hands that he couldn’t quite make heads or tails of. It felt strange that she would seek him out instead of her clever brother, or even her mother. Lemony was almost afraid to hope that she _wanted_ to spend time with him. Just him.

He’d never refuse.

“What is it meant to do?” He asked in return, standing from the desk. Violet held the invention out to him and he took it with delicate fingers, turning it over in his hands. It looked very much like the toaster they had used for breakfast that morning, deconstructed and reapplied to whatever she was making.

“I wanted to see if I could create a much more effect and long range communications device. The organization – you always use letters and coded messages. They could be unreliable, intercepted, or take too long. The idea was using this to transmit a signal or code words with different meanings.” She explained. “I’ve a matching one,” She held up another, very similar device though it looked far more like the tea kettle than the toaster. “and I can get them to transmit signals back and forth, but not the same ones, or the ones I intend. It gets scrambled.”

Lemony turned the pieces over in his hand for a moment, considering.

“Have you tried stabilizing the signals with a different metal alloy? Something to absorb outside frequencies that might be jamming or jumbling the transmitter?”

She frowned.

“It could work, but I don’t have anything to use.”

Lemony turned the device back over in his hands, considering. After a moment he handed it back to Violet and fiddled with the edge of his sleeves.

“Try these.” He offered out the cufflinks from his sleeves. “They’re not one hundred percent platinum, but they should do. Attach it to the back of the sensors and they should absorb outside information.”

Violet’s eyes lit up as if a child on Christmas. She immediately commandeered half his desk for the devices, attaching the cufflinks with eagerness clear in her expression. Lemony watched, amused and curious as she attached them to each of her homemade devices. She took one and stepped across the room. Her brows furrowed in concentration and she twisted two wires together. The device crackled like a static radio, before lighting up blue from an LED bulb she had attached to one side.

A long pause, and the other device on his desk lit up blue in response. She grinned in a way Lemony hadn’t seen before, except only in photos from her earlier childhood that Beatrice had shared.

“Brilliant work.” He returned her smile with a broad, proud one of his own. She turned a faint shade of red at the praise.

“It still needs a lot of work. Ideally I’d like to modify watches or other accessories that are easily disguised.”

“Good idea, as I don’t think anyone really carts around toasters and tea kettles.” Lemony mused, and Violet paused.

“Sorry. I’ll go to the shops and buy others?” Her voice was timid, her earlier excitement gone in an instant. Lemony realized his mistake; she’d worried he’d be angry at her. Impossible, in truth.

“No – you don’t have to do that. Who needs toast anyway?”

That earned him a softer, brief smile.

“Thank you. For your help. And cufflinks.”

“A sacrifice I was willing to make. It’s a brilliant idea and invention, Violet.”

With another softer smile, she scurried from the room and Lemony Snicket was struck with a very clever idea. His typewriter forgotten, he went to seek out Beatrice with new thoughts. He’d buy Violet a whole hardware store if she wanted, but that seemed too difficult and too much paperwork. So perhaps the next best thing would do.

It took only a day for him to sort out everything after Beatrice had gleefully agreed. Even so, however, he insisted he wanted to do everything. She had sensed his desire to foster his relationship with his daughter, and given him free reign (in other cases, that was usually a very bad mistake, but Lemony was determined for this project to be perfect).

The day after, he sought out his daughter in the library once more, this time studying books instead of devices.

“I have something for you.” He declared, and she looked startled for a moment. It sounded strange coming from his mouth, he felt. And he’d known it had been a very, very long time since anyone had given any of the children gifts without expecting something in return. It was a harsh reminder somedays, their stunned reactions to things.

“Oh?” Violet ventured, curiosity peaked. He gestured for her to follow and was grateful she did almost instantly, marking her page in the book and joining him in the doorway.

“I hope you like it.” He added, quieter, before leading her down the hall to the basement door. In her building plans, Beatrice had left it relatively untouched to finish, undecided on it’s purpose. Lemony had given it purpose.

In the dim light he led her down the stairs, a hand at her arm to make certain she didn’t trip. He flipped the switch at the bottom to light up the room.

It wasn’t large; he hadn’t used the entire basement out of fairness and future ideas. However, a large part of it had been devoted to a new space. Two sets of long workbenches sat facing each other, and along a section of walling were rows of storage bins filled and labeled with spare parts, various knick knacks, and anything else he had thought of in the moment to stuff them with, anything that Violet might need or would strike her fancy. A veritable inventing lab, complete with a small library of books on various mechanical engineering feats and facts.

Violet, for her part, only stared for a very long time. So long that Lemony thought perhaps she had been rendered mute, or that he’d done something wrong. Uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach, and when she spoke it was so quiet he nearly missed it.

“This is mine?”

“All of it. You deserve your own space to do your inventing and parts that you don’t have to cannibalize kitchen appliances for.” Lemony spoke. “It isn’t an exhaustive collection, but it will get you started I hope. I left plenty empty so you could stock your own of whatever you find.”

Violet stared at him with shining eyes. Her emotions as of late were worn on her sleeve, and Lemony couldn't blame her. She'd spent so long pretending they didn't exist for her own self, and the sake of her siblings. It made it easier that way; he was familiar with the tactic. But a girl her age should have no business in experience with that particular tactic. He couldn't take away the suffering she and her siblings had endured, but he hoped to ease the memories of it bit by bit. 

“You gave me a workstation. A work _room_.”

“Is that all right?”

Violet’s response was a firm hug, clinging to him tightly for several long moments. Accustomed to this particular display of affection, Lemony returned it kindly. He pulled her close, fingers combing gently through her hair to keep it from her eyes. The action seemed nothing but second nature now. 

No, he had not been ready to be a parent before. Now, he very much wanted to be the father Violet needed. He still wasn't entirely prepared, but she seemed happy in helping him adjust to his new role. 

“It’s more than all right. I love it.” She whispered, voice muffled by his sweater. The knowledge that Violet had not been given a gift in a very long time sat heavily in the space in his heart that Violet Baudelaire had carved out of his chest, along with her siblings. Her mother. No doubt Klaus would find use in this room as well, he'd reasoned. A space for them to work together on whatever inventions they could imagine, creating out of want or curiosity instead of desperate need.  

“I trust you to put it to good use?”

“Of _course_. Thank you.”

Their relationship would never be perfect, but he was certainly willing to make certain the rest of Violet’s days were filled with far more smiles than frowns.


	2. trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parent-teacher night.

Beatrice Baudelaire hated him.

Of that fact, Lemony was certain in that very moment. Beatrice hated him and he was being punished. Of course, it was the farthest from the truth of which Lemony also knew, but he couldn’t figure out _why_ she had left him to fend for himself.

On parent-teacher night.

He had agreed to come only because they were meant to be a team and she had insisted it for the better of Violet and Klaus they show a united front to support their school endeavors.

What he had _not_ agreed to was being left alone while she whisked Sunny and Klaus off to meet with Klaus’ teachers, leaving him with one nervous looking Violet waiting in the hall to meet with her head teacher.

“Relax.” He said, though he wasn’t entirely certain if he was trying to convince Violet or himself more. Violet glanced at him from the chair next to his, fingers twisting back and forth in her lap.

“I am. Relaxed.”

“Violet, you look as if you’re facing a firing squad.”

Her lips tightened. Perhaps she was worried about what her teacher would say, though Lemony could assume it would only be praises. Violet was far too clever. She’d spoken very little about school at home, however, despite having returned a little over a month ago. Beatrice had voiced the concern to him just last week for the fourth time, and they’d ruminated on the cause for some time together to no avail.

She offered no further response, and his fingers twitched for a moment before he reached over to claps his hand across both of her own. She stilled in her seat, frozen, before he felt her fingers wind around his in a tight grasp. A comfort.

The door opened to their right a moment later and a couple bid their goodbyes to a woman he assumed was Violet’s teacher, their son in tow. Lemony eyed the woman as she spoke with the other parents, trying to read her as if one might read a book, so he would know what to expect. He had no idea why Violet might be nervous, but he had ever reason to be. This woman was his firing squad.

She wasn’t part of the organization, as much as he had wanted her to be. Beatrice had been firm in that regard; a normal schooling, and the children could decide their own fates if they wanted to join V.F.D. or not. Lemony had reluctantly agreed, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel all the more better about the children being gone at school all day with a highly trained V.F.D. agent posted as a teacher in the school.

“Hello Violet, Mr. Snicket.”

“Ms. Lewis.” Violet greeted, standing at once.

Ms. Lewis looked like any other teacher in the school. Old enough to have plenty of experience, but young enough that she had yet to go grew from teaching classrooms full of unruly children. Her face was kind and freckled, the glasses on the edge of her nose wired and slim. By far the most noticeable thing about her was a rather unruly mane of fire-red hair.

“Charlotte S. Lewis. A pleasure, Mr. Snicket.” Lemony shook her hand politely. That was easy. Shaking hands. He could do that. She gestured for him and Violet to enter the room and he let Violet lead, following half a step behind.

The classroom was like any other classroom. Lemony half expected something odd or inane – his life was, for all intents and purposes. But no. Everything was normal, brightly coloured and coded properly, and he could find no immediate fault for the room in which Violet drew her education.

Violet sat in the front row of desks across from the teacher’s, so Lemony wedged himself into one next to her. It was an awkward fit, his frame entirely too large for such a desk, but he made no outward clue that it was uncomfortable and made him feel as if he was back on his very first day of Prufrock.

But this was _Violet_ , and it was her day. Not his.

“Violet seems to enjoy class very much, Mr. Snicket.” Ms. Lewis spoke, straight to the point. Good. He liked that. Violet fidgeted at his left and he offered his hand beneath the table; she wrapped her fingers around his once more, anchoring them together. They tightened each time her teacher spoke, though he couldn’t fathom why.

“She’s very clever. She’s always liked school.” He agreed quietly. Ms. Lewis never stopped smiling. “Having the routine of it again has been helpful for her, and her brother.”

“You’ve been settling well, Violet.” Ms. Lewis added warmly. “I know it can’t have been easy for you, but you’re excelling in all your courses and your other teachers sing your praises. But I do have a few concerns.”

He was certain if Violet had much more strength, his fingers would be snapped in half. Lemony’s brows furrowed; concerns were worrying.

“You haven’t made any attempt to connect with the other students.” Ms. Lewis proceeded slowly, gently. “I worry you might be lonely in your courses and at lunch. Your continued development and excelling is remarkable, but I worry about your social growth as much as I do your education growth.”

Violet’s head lowered, and Lemony turned his gaze to Violet. He didn’t blame her, he couldn’t. There were no other children that could understand what she had been through, what she and her siblings had endured. How could she possibly hope to relate to any of them, when such a large chunk of her life was untouchable?

“I’m fine with my brother and the Quagmires.” Violet protested meekly; it was as if someone had flipped a switch in her, Lemony noted. This was not Violet. His Violet.

Ms. Lewis frowned, briefly, and Lemony cleared his throat.

“Is it all right if I speak to your teacher alone, Violet?” He offered less than a moment later. Violet looked at him with a hesitant expression, but gave his fingers one last squeeze and nodded.

“I’ll go see about finding mother.”

She seemed almost relieved to scurry from the room, the door snapping shut behind her. Lemony’s attention went back to Ms. Lewis, eying her again with an air of caution and concern of his own.

“Your wife has made me aware of part of the situation.” She began before Lemony could. “I can’t imagine what she and her siblings have been through, but she constantly insists on sitting alone at lunch, and even during science labs she prefers to work alone than with others.”

“She’s been through more than you can imagine, Ms. Lewis. Rest assured of that. Beatrice and I have been trying to finds ways to circumvent the damage done, but we don’t push her. Just like we expect you and her other teachers not to push her to socialize. Violet does things on her terms, when she’s ready. Forcing her will only prolong it.”

“I wasn’t pushing it, Mr. Snicket. But she cannot rely forever on her friendship with the Quagmires for company. I admire how closely knit they all are, but she and the others have made no attempt at making further friends.”

“There’s something to be said about shared suffering.” Lemony frowned. “She needs encouragement. Not criticizing.”

“Her performance in all her classes is astounding. I only worry.”

“Noted. But do not push her until she’s ready. As I said, Violet does things in her own time. If it takes her the full term to adjust, so be it. I expect as her teacher you would merely support her in her current state and continue to do so as she grows.”

“Of course.” Ms. Lewis folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head at him in thought. “However, I fear she might feel left out when it comes to other students. Some have tried reaching out to her only to be ignored.”

“Her trust is way, but once she gives it there’s no stopping her. But I’ve learned she mist deem one worth of such trust. She won’t rely on other students just because they’re her classmates. She relies on the ones she knows will be there for her, always.”

“School is not a life or death situation, Mr. Snicket.”

“Isn’t it?”

Ms. Lewis fixed him with a strange look.

“Will that be all?” He added, standing and stretching; the desk had left a faint intent in his back that ached when he stood. Ms. Lewis pushed away from her desk.

“Will I see you or Beatrice at the extracurricular sign-ups next week?”

“I don’t doubt it.”

When he opened the door, Violet jumped away. Ms. Lewis moved on to the parents behind them, and Lemony wrapped an arm around Violet to lead her away down the hall. She didn’t speak for a long few moments, and neither did he until they were well down the corridor.

“She’s right.” Violet breathed quietly. “But I don’t want other friends. I have Klaus and Isadora and Duncan.”

“I know.” Lemony agreed gently. “I also know that in time, perhaps you’ll find others you warrant spending time with. The world is not so cruel that you cannot have other friends, Violet.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“But you might. Eventually. Just don’t put the possibility so far out of your mind. It is important to have friends. You’d be surprised how often they simply walk right into your life and just never leave.” He mused, gently. “You’ll do things on your time, Violet. And you know that whatever you do, as long as it’s mostly legal, your mother and I will support you in every way.”

Violet smiles at him kindly, and not for the first time Lemony thinks perhaps he’s said something right. Supporting his daughter is no question. _His daughter_. He could go to all the parent-teacher nights in the world, and the term would still be foreign to him.

When Beatrice finds him twenty minutes later, he’s perched on a seat in the large cafeteria holding a glass of too sweet punch and a plate of questionable finger foods. Jacques and Olivia have joined them, and the children are wedged further down the table around one another.

“Everything go all right?” She asks, and Lemony eyes his wife to try and determine if he’s still rather fussed about making him attend parent-teacher night with Violet on his own. Her disarming smile displays she is not sorry in the slightest.

“As well as can be expected. How much smarter is Klaus than his teacher?”

“About evenly matched, I should say.” She quipped, plucking a grape from his plate to nibble at, then another. Sunny is twisting back and forth in her mother’s arms, fussing, and he trades his plate of snacks for the baby in half an instantly. Sunny eyes him as she always does when Lemony holds her, before she settles and curls her fingers around the lapels of his jacket. Her face presses against his neck, and all seems well.

He’ll never get used to having an infant that actually likes having him around. Of course she won’t be this small forever, so Lemony silently relishes in the moments Sunny deems him worthy, which are becoming more and more often as of late.

“Where’s Violet?” Beatrice asked half a moment later, glancing down to the children. Lemony follows her gaze and is surprised to see the eldest is missing. His gaze scans the room and spots her standing near the punch table with a girl close to her own height with blonde braids and a cautious look on her face. The pair are deep in discussion about something, and from his spot Lemony can see that Violet is smiling.

It's a start, at least. Perhaps Violet doesn't need all the time in the world. Just a little encouragement from the right person. 

“Making friends.”


	3. a better place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made.

Lemony Snicket had made a decision.

It was only the inkling of an idea, at one point. An inkling that had taken root and sparked another thought and another until it was all he had thought of. All that he worried for, too. Worried that perhaps it would be unwanted, unwarranted, and unwelcome.

But his relationship with his daughter and her siblings had formed a tight bond that he felt was strong enough to weather such a decision.

His hands were sweaty as dinner came and went, and he brooded as the others settled into their usual nighttime routines. Beatrice kept glancing at him – she was fully aware of his decision, and even that did not assure him. He felt the whole world resting on his shoulders – rather, _his_ entire world. And it was, in a sense, that did nothing to help the worry that ate away at the pit of his stomach.

“I’m going to put the kettle on.” Beatrice announced, fixing him a look that seemed to be his cue. She left the library and the other three did nothing to stir from their readings, despite Lemony’s pause in his writing. His fingers stilled against the typewriter for a moment, and he braced himself mentally for the discussion he knew was coming. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good decision, after all.

No. They needed this. He did, too.

Reaching into a bottom desk drawer, he pulled a folder from it and held it firm to his chest as he stood. The small sitting area where the children were was only a few steps away and yet it felt a mile as Lemony crossed to it, and cleared his throat. Klaus and Violet looked up, and Sunny paused in playing with her toy on the rug below.

“I have something to ask you.” He declared, and felt as if he’d sealed his fate.

“Yes?” Klaus asked, brows knitting together as if picking up on Lemony’s own cautious hesitation. The folder in his hands felt as heavy as a boulder, threatening to tug him down and down and down until he could no longer stand. His fingers grew white around the manilla edges.

“It’s a very important question, one I’ve considered at length. One your mother and I have had talks about nearly every night.” He admitted. He felt very not-brave when faced with three pairs of eyes that meant more to him than the world. The three that had firmly wedged themselves into his heart and never dared to leave.

“In the end it’s your decision, but I have everything here should you agree.” He drummed his fingers on the folder, setting it on the coffee table before the three of them. It was unsuspecting, really, but Violet reached forward and lifted the cover.

_Mulctuary Money Management_

_Consent to Adoption._

_I, Lemony Snicket, agree to adopt the former orphans now not, known by the names of Violet Baudelaire, Klaus Baudelaire, and Sunny Baudelaire. I agree to be their guardian per the rules outlined below and continued on the next seventeen pages, and below is the signatures of all involved parties for consent and knowledge of this adoption and all it’s legalities._

“It’s a formality, really.” Lemony said quietly, suddenly. “But the documents still exist from your previous guardians and Beatrice never destroyed them. I contacted Poe and he sent them.” After hesitation on Poe’s part, of course. Lemony loathed the man and every interaction with the hacking manager, but it was a necessary evil. Beatrice had prompted removed him from the management of her children’s cases, leaving the paperwork instead in hand with Jacquelyn, who had recently been promoted to case manager. She had happily sent over additional paperwork after Lemony had found the original documents, all complied in the folder he had put gently on the table before the three former orphans.

“Violet is my daughter.” He continued, pausing. “But that doesn’t make you, Klaus, or you, Sunny, any less. If anything the paperwork is more for the both of you. You know I don’t want to replace Bertrand, but should anything happen I don’t want you three left on your own. Not again. There’s also paperwork in here that list Jacques and Olivia your legal guardians should anything happen to your mother and I. But if something horrible should indeed happen and only to her, I would prefer to keep you with me. You deserve a stable place to life and safety and I have done everything I can to ensure you receive such. I’d like to continue to do so. Legally. Formally. All the other ‘ly-s’.”

Silence reigned cross the room for a long few moments, and Lemony shifted uneasily.  Was it a bad idea indeed? Nervousness had him fiddling with the edge of his sleeves for something to do, but his gaze remained on the three children taking turns staring at him and the folder in turn.

Sunny suddenly made a noise of her own that he recognized immediately as ‘yes, I would very much like that’. Her fingers closed around the pen Klaus had been using to take down notes from his book, scribbling briefly across a line at the bottom of the top paper. She grinned brightly up at him.

Klaus took his pen back, gave him a meaningful look, and signed his name below his little sister’s.

He offered the pen out to Violet.

“We trust you.” Klaus spoke gently. “We’re family now. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove it, but I don’t want to be separated or worse. Not again.”

Sunny chirped in agreement.

Violet took the pen, looking up at Lemony for a lingering moment before she too, scrawled her name in elegant script across the bottom. She sat the pen down carefully next to the paper, staring at her own signature. As if daring to believe it. Or fighting the urge to feel as if she had forsaken Bertrand. Not so, as Beatrice had worked to assure him. Bertrand would always be a part of their lives, as Lemony would be. With or without formal paperwork and all the legalities it brought with it.

Bertrand would want to know his children were looked after, Beatrice had said. He and Bertrand had always gotten on well enough, and he hoped that the man, wherever he was, agreed with his clever wife.

Klaus stood, and crossed to Lemony. He looked uncertain of himself, shoving his glasses up on his nose before suddenly hugging the author firmly around the middle.

His relationship with Klaus was strange, but they had found books to discuss and read together, and Lemony aided in his essays for school.

“You’re the first guardian who’s ever asked us what we wanted.” Klaus said, tilting his head up to look at Lemony. “It’s all we’ve wanted, is someone to ask. We feel safe with you.”

Sunny’s arms stretched toward him, and Lemony knelt to pluck her up. An arm stayed wrapped around Klaus.

He looked to Violet, who met his gaze evenly as she stood. She mirrored her brother, hugging him firmly. He wasn’t certain how long they stood there together, wrapped in each other. The children marveling at the first adult who had ever asked what they wanted beyond their own parents, and one Lemony Snicket who seemed somewhat surprised they had so easily signed their lives to him to protect. Officially.

“Thank you. _Dad_.”

Lemony felt his insides seize at Violet’s quiet voice, and a soft warmth settle itself near his heart. The spot felt untouchable, untainted, and pure, and Lemony Snicket knew without a doubt his idea had been a very good one indeed. His life had a firm purpose besides writing, and he was very grateful for the Baudelaire children who had shown him as such. 

Beatrice returned to find them in the same position, standing together and holding onto one another. She smiled gently at the family she had pieced back together, content in the knowledge that things would be better. Not perfect, but the future they could build looked brighter than it had before. She set the thought away, silently setting down the tray of tea she had brought in. She burrowed herself into Lemony’s free side, arms wrapped around both him and her children.

The world was indeed quiet here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of kindness and love. I live for this family.


End file.
